


Safe Haven

by MirandaHamilton



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, hopefully it worked, it’s so soft oh my god, kissing and talking in the shower, rated M mostly for mentions of past drug use and drinking, some angst but very soft, yes i tried to be soft with these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandaHamilton/pseuds/MirandaHamilton
Summary: Set directly post-S2, the first time Stewy and Kendall see each other again. Set entirely in Stewy's apartment. Locations include in Stewy's bed and in the shower. Lots of feelings. Lots.
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Kendall Roy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Safe Haven

“Oh God, I can’t breathe. Fuck. Can you breathe?”

“No. Shit, Stew. That was fucking mind-blowing.” Kendall palms his hand around Stewy’s chest until he lands on Stewy’s heart. Stewy can see the red light of the alarm clock, the only color in the dark of Stewy’s bedroom, illuminating the line of Kendall’s arm as he keeps his hand on Stewy’s heaving chest. It reminds him of a thousand nights at the bar in college, neon lights throwing colored sheens on Kendall’s face while they threw down their beers and Stewy tried hard not to sneak too many glances at Kendall over the rim of his glass.

The college memories are nice, but Stewy lets them dissolve in favor of the immediacy of the present. He grabs the hand Kendall is pressing on him, feeling his own sweat between Kendall’s fingers. “What are you doing?”

Kendall laughs with only his breath. He leans down and presses his ear to Stewy’s heart, which only beats faster at the contact. Even though they’ve just finished fucking their brains out, it doesn’t feel like it’s over, not as long as Kendall keeps touching him. He moves his head away but keeps his hand on Stewy. “I’m just proving to myself that you’re breathing, that I didn’t fuck you just a little too hard into the mattress. I mean, I am totally capable of that, if I wanted to. But I’m sort of in the mood to keep you around right now.”

“Yeah? You’re keeping _me_ around? Like it wasn’t _you_ who showed up at my door when I’ve only been back from Greece _one_ day? How did you even know I was back?”

Kendall grins, wiping a bead of sweat that’s rolling down his temple. “I didn’t. I’ve been coming over and ringing your buzzer every day.”

Stewy gapes at him in mock-horror. “You’ve been _stalking_ me?”

“Is that a problem, officer?”

“I could legit send you to jail.”

“ _You_ arresting _me_? You don’t even know how to use handcuffs. You seriously fucked it up that one time we tried it in college.”

Stewy snorts. “I ‘fucked it up’ because your loser ass bought cheap ones that fell apart when I dropped them. Seriously, how much fucking money and you bought little kid toys from the dollar store.”

“Shut up. I didn’t know what I was doing any more than you did.”

“Yeah. Okay. Well in that case, you should be thankful I’m keeping _you_ around.” Stewy laughs with more than his breath, his voice humming a few notes as his breathing is still raggedy. He’s still high on bliss and his words tumble out without any brainpower behind them. The old jokes prove irresistible for a moment. “I could have slammed the door in your face earlier.” He squeezes Kendall’s hand, tight. “But that fucking prodigal son kind of look you had. ‘Forgive me my sins, O my Lord Stewy.’ Big puppy dog eyes. I liked it.”

“Oh fuck you.” Kendall wrenches his hand away from Stewy’s grip and pushes up from his pillow, leaning over the side of the bed. His breathing is more even now and although he’s moving, rooting around in their pile of clothes on the floor, Stewy can sense the tenseness suddenly making Kendall more compact, less relaxed, less fucked-out looking. He reaches his hand up to Kendall’s back, runs one fingertip down his spine.

“Ken.”

“Yeah?” Kendall is flapping out a t-shirt he’s picked up. He doesn’t seem to have registered Stewy’s tracing down his back and is already pushing his arms into the sleeves of the shirt. He doesn’t look at Stewy.

Fuck. It was going so well. But Kendall clearly isn’t in the mood for jokes about showing up on Stewy’s door yet. Stewy dislikes that their easy banter took a detour and sighs. He leans up, gently taking one of Kendall’s wrists to halt his progress with the shirt. “Hey. Lie down again.”

Kendall shakes him off. “I gotta clean up. I’ll be back.”

“Hey. Tell me what I said.”

Kendall finally turns to him. The red alarm clock light bathes the side of his face in a glow that’s harsh now, not sexy. “Oh, I don’t know. ‘Prodigal son’? I’m just.” His shoulders relax and he doesn’t shake away when Stewy lays a hand on his shoulder, gently so as not to spook him, so, so gently. “Yeah. I mean. It’s fine. I’m not angry. I’m only.” He twists his upper body around to Stewy and the full of his face finally appears in the light. His eyes are wide open and blinking a little rapidly. “I’m being oversensitive. I just don’t want to be reminded of being anyone’s son right now. It’s all I’ve been hearing, and it’s all I’m gonna fucking hear about literally every fucking day from now on.”

Stewy closes his eyes and grimaces. Damn it. Of course. “KENDALL ROY: SON VERSUS FATHER. KENDALL ROY: A SON’S BETRAYAL. KENDALL ROY: NOT HIS FATHER’S SON AFTER ALL!” All the headlines, the alerts on Stewy’s phone, the Twitter highlights, every magazine cover already, both trashy and glossy. Kendall Roy could be an alien from another planet for all anyone could care, as long as he remains a traitorous son.

Stewy’s main mode of coping with Kendall fucking him over these past few months has been a cocktail of ridiculing Kendall at business dinners, making jokes about Kendall’s “daddy issues,” jetting off to islands he and Kendall never vacationed to during spring break, visualizing himself scrubbing Kendall off the walls of his mind when he’s still awake at three in the morning, getting drunk alone, and wishing like hell that every time his phone buzzed or rang, it would somehow be Kendall. Kendall’s messages wouldn’t even matter. “ _Fuck you.” “I’m sorry.”_ _“I hate you.”_ _“I miss you.”_

Because fuck it, even after everything, even after how red hot furious he was, it makes no difference. For months he had burned, and then he had burned through it all. The rage and hollowness, slamming his hands against the walls in his mind until he was sore and numb and ready for it all to be over. Coming up with new insults at Kendall in his mind became a tired sport, and a losing one. And when he’d watched the press conference, he’d seen it in Kendall’s eyes. They had a chance again. So he had broken his armor of fury. Seeing each other again was only a matter of time. And he’ll be fucked if he lets a dumb joke separate them just now or any time at all.

Now, Stewy looks at Kendall’s hand on the bedsheet, so close but suddenly so far away. He feels a little bleeding in his voice, like he popped a blood vessel when he pushed his words too far just now. “Kendall. I’m sorry. Listen to me. I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I said it without thinking. That was shitty of me. I just-“

“No. Stew. It’s fine.” Kendall squishes his forehead into his palm. “I mean, I get it. I brought this on myself. I made my choice. It’s just that I thought if I could see you, be with you, you know, not even necessarily fuck you, but just _be_ with you, I could forget it all for a second. And it could just be you and me like it used to be.” He lifts his face up and the light brightens his already shiny eyes. “Being alone together. Like it should be.”

Stewy knows that eye-shine so well. The first time they had sex in college, Kendall had cried into Stewy’s shoulder not even ten seconds after it was over. _That was so fucking genuine_ , he’d gasped as Stewy had let the hot tears roll down from Kendall’s eyes and between their bodies. _I feel like this was my first time. Shit, Stewy, you’re_ it _. I don’t even wanna smoke or do a line right now. I feel high enough just like this. Just don’t leave._

Stewy had laced his fingers through Kendall’s, feeling like if the world collapsed just then, he’d die in glory. You don’t share that kind of rapture with someone and let a crumbling universe leave a scratch on it. _I’m not going anywhere, Ken._

 _Okay. Just don’t go_.

  
_I’m here._

“Kendall,” he whispers now, reaching up to Kendall’s face in time to catch the first tear that spills out of Kendall’s eye and down his chin and into the air.

Kendall sobs, just once, but it shudders through his body and he lets Stewy lower him back onto the bed, his face muffled into Stewy’s shoulder, Stewy stroking his arms and kissing his temple. “What’s up?”

Stewy seems to have smashed a dam. The words freefall out of Kendall, and he holds Stewy’s arm and reflexively grips and un-grips it. “I get so scared, Stew. It’s been like, what, only three days since the press conference? I should be riding high, right? The world won’t shut up about me, won’t stop staring at me through a magnifying glass, and that’s what I wanted, right? I have ten million phone calls I still have to make, ten million people I still need to convince to get in with me. And I can do it. I can pull this off. So why am I so goddamn scared? Literally one second I’ll be like _fuck, yeah, Kendall, you finally fucking stood up for once in your goddamn life_. And then the next I’m on the verge of a fucking panic attack. Did I fuck up? Did I fuck up so badly that I’ve destroyed my life forever? What the fuck do I do with a destroyed life? How do I live it? What do I do? What-”

“Shh.” Stewy hauls Kendall all the way into his arms. “Listen. You didn’t fuck it up but you have to believe that on your own, I can’t make you. But whatever happens, you live with whatever happens the way you’ve always lived, Ken.”

Kendall’s voice is very small. “How?”

Stewy takes Kendall’s face in his hands and holds him fast. “One big gulp at a time. Greedy fucking gulps. Suck-all-the-air-out-of-the-room gulps. Because you need _more_. And whatever it is you need more of? You take a gulp of air and you seize it. You seize it and you never fucking let it go.”

Kendall’s laugh is tiny but Stewy feels it against his skin and hopes the echo of it will never leave him. They pull away from each other enough so that they can look in each other’s eyes. Kendall swipes the tears away from his cheeks and then lays his entire hand over the side of Stewy’s face. It’s both clumsy and tender, very Kendall, and Stewy leans into the touch. Kendall sighs shakily and then takes a smoother breath as he holds Stewy’s eyes. Stewy can see the wounds there, some not even close to being half-healed.

“I’ve been through it, Stew. It’s been so dark, all the time. I can’t even begin.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. I haven’t talked to you freely since God knows when. Fucking you over, again and again, I just. It feels like a black hole inside me. And I’m gonna get sucked in if I don’t make it up to you.”

Stewy shakes his head. “Ken, you know what? I don’t even _want_ you to make it up to me. Just be with me right now, right here. Let’s be together.”

Kendall’s smile dusts his lips. “Stew. Are you like. Asking me to marry you?”

Stewy kicks him gently in the shin but he’s smiling. “Fuck off. You know what I mean.”

Kendall nods against his forehead. “Yeah. Yeah I do. Stewy. I’ve been out in the cold without you. I’ve been freezing.”

“Then come back inside. Get warm. Get toasty. I’ll build you a fire from scratch like we’re fucking Cub Scouts in the woods or something.”

Kendall laughs against Stewy’s mouth and presses their foreheads together. They kiss like each of them is the other’s sole form of nourishment, the kind that their cores need. Desperate, wet, messy, hard, soft, endless, perfect.

***

As dawn brightens the line between the curtains and Kendall is still asleep, tucked into Stewy’s side, Stewy relishes the last few minutes they have until the alarm clock is going to start blaring. Today is the second press conference and Kendall will be gone most of the day.

That’s alright. Stewy is used to Kendall drifting in and out of his life all these post-college years. But having had Kendall back for the night has churned something up in him, like a tiny heart he didn’t know existed next to his regular one, a little heart that’s putting down small but strong roots inside his chest.

He remembers what Kendall had said to him after that first time. _Stewy, you’re_ it.

Back then, Stewy would have said that he had no vulnerabilities, that his attraction to Kendall was something he couldn’t control but could deal with neatly by not acting on it. He made it a kind of game. He got high on being competitive with Kendall. If Stewy got even half a point higher of a grade than Kendall on a test, he’d wave it in Kendall’s face until Kendall flipped him off and spent the weekend away from him, only to come back Monday morning and complain about something a family member had said to him and _Fuck, Stewy, you’re so fucking lucky you’re not a Roy_.

Stewy would roll his eyes. _Fuck_ you _, Kendall, for not knowing how lucky you are that you’re a Roy. Complaining about your family? How they’re so mean to you? You pussy. Grow the fuck up and get some real problems. Like fixing those coke circles under your eyes, they’re almost big enough for me to stick my dick through._

And they’d pretend to come to blows and then later in their dorm Stewy would listen patiently and willingly to all of Kendall’s family woes while they sat on the floor and smoked a bowl and simply existed in each other’s company. They’d talk, then fall silent. As easy and simple as a breeze through leaves. Blowing again and again and the gentle rhythm never subsiding. Not once. Not for all the world.

He can remember the first time he felt his feelings for Kendall flip from attraction to something deeper. They were at a bar on a Friday night in college, as per usual, and they were both drunk and high, as per usual. It was going on three AM and finals were next week so people were leaving early. Stewy was basking in a reverie of he and Kendall already being in Greece the first post-finals weekend. A whole week of Kendall to himself. He was slowly torn away from the daydreams when, for whatever reason – and there didn’t need to be one, because when you’re drunk and high, all logic is garbage – a knot of the remaining students had set up a makeshift dance area in an empty corner. Kendall and Stewy had watched them from their seats at the bar and nearly burst their lungs laughing at all of the attempts at sexy grinding that were more often than not just people smacking into each other and bouncing apart, arms and legs wobbly and decidedly un-sexy.

“Shit,” Kendall had said. “Let’s do it.”

Stewy had literally spit out his mouthful of beer. “What?”

Kendall had already been sliding out of his seat and wavering towards the group. “I want to fucking dance. You coming?”

Yeah, of course Stewy was. An opportunity to see Kendall embarrass himself? Always.

An opportunity to stand near Kendall without needing an excuse? Yeah, well, that was happening more often than not, frequently.

“Why the fuck are we doing this?” He had had to yell over the noise of both the music and the other students hooting as they somehow continued to drape themselves over each other and bounce at the same time, the neon light painting wild and fleeting shapes over them as they moved.

Kendall had attached himself to one girl and was attempting to spin her around, which was going poorly as he tried to spin her one way and she clomped around in the opposite direction. “I’m hyped, man,” he’d slurred. “One more week and then Italy.”

Stewy had leaned against the wall, refusing to give in to the “dancing,” and feeling annoyed now. “Greece. Not Italy.”

“Right. Yeah. Greece. _Oof_.” The girl had stepped on Kendall’s foot and Kendall had released her hands. “Fucking right. Hey. Come here.”

“I _am_ here.”

“No, _here_.” Kendall had jabbed his finger at the spot in front of his feet. “Come. Celebrate.”

“I fucking did that already. Half your coke is up my nose.”

“ _Stewy_.”

And seeing Kendall moving awkwardly but determinedly, running one hand through his hair and swiveling his hips so ridiculously but endearingly, was all it took for Stewy. Even being drunk and high, he wasn’t about to _dance_ , but he’d do what Kendall asked, because it was Kendall.

And when Kendall took one of Stewy’s hands and pulled him closer and swayed in front of him, Stewy swayed too. He thought about making some wise crack about how if he had his video camera, he’d be able to blackmail Kendall for all eternity. But the thought died as Kendall had pulled Stewy’s arm and Stewy had let himself be pulled. He pulled Kendall toward him in turn and Kendall stumbled forward, grinning.

This awkward, weird, not even really dancing push-and-pull type of movement was the extent of their physical connection for the next few minutes until the bartender broke up the group because everyone else was getting too rowdy. When Kendall had slid his fingers from Stewy’s, Stewy had felt the loss of contact like a harsh wind. He had gotten to touch Kendall again not a minute later as they each supported each other on their way back to their dorm. Before Stewy had even flipped the lights on, Kendall was passed out dead on the couch. Stewy had fallen into his bed, doubting that either he or Kendall would remember what had happened when they woke up.

He was wrong.

“Was I at least good? Shit, my head.” Kendall had lain his head in his arms over the table at breakfast.

“Dude. No, of course not. You were fucking terrible.”

“Was anyone from class there? Because _fuck_ , what was I thinking? Dancing? _Me?_ I gotta talk to my dealer. I’m never taking fucking disco coke again.”

“Talk to him then, because I don’t want to _ever_ repeat that.”

Kendall had looked up as Stewy had sat across from him with his toast. “ _You_ were dancing?”

Stewy had thrown crumbs at him. “Only because you harassed me into it.”

“Shit. Were _you_ any good?”

“You’d have to tell me.”

“How would _I_ know?”

“I dunno. Hold me better next time to give it some semblance of fucking ballroom or something.”

And then he’d felt sick, every crumb of toast rolling in his stomach.

“I was holding you?” Kendall said it not ungently as he straightened slowly in his chair, but the curious note in his voice was clear. Bright, even.

Stewy had still wanted to die. “I mean, not really. Just, like, holding one of my hands. It wasn’t even dancing, like, at _all_.”

“Oh.” Kendall had flattened himself back onto his arms again. “Well, if we did it together, it couldn’t have been _too_ bad.” He had smiled, not looking at Stewy but not hiding his face, either. “We’re always good together. I’m fine with it if you are, dude.”

Stewy had turned away and pretended to toss crumbs away from his shirt so that Kendall couldn’t see his hands shake. He had felt the balance shift from Kendall being his hot friend that he’d like to make out with into the man who he needed to hold onto. “I’m fine with it,” he had managed over his shoulder.

“ _Good together_ ,” he’d breathed into Kendall’s mouth as they’d had their first kiss later that day, voice hitching. “You meant it?”

“Better than that. The, the fucking best, _oh god_.” Kendall had sounded near-broken and like crushing their lips together was the only remedy for slotting his pieces back where they belonged.

And then they started sleeping together, and Stewy had felt like Kendall had blown through his whole body, had snagged on his veins, and remained pressed against the flow of his blood.

Stewy and Kendall. Together. Like it should be.

Now, the alarm will go off in a minute, but Stewy keeps his arms around Kendall, one hand flat on his back. Touching Kendall like this is like being burned, but in reverse – all the heat in Stewy’s system that’s been simmering, his anger at Kendall that was always shot through with sorrow, is turned cool and gentle and airy as clouds, the kind of peace you only find when you know you’d do anything, _anything_ for another person.

He slams his hand on the alarm clock button before it can ring. “Hey,” he says softly and gently extracts himself from Kendall’s arms, already craving his touch again. “It’s time to get up. You have a big day.”

Kendall blearily opens his eyes and knuckles the corner of one of them. “Mmmph. God. I gotta shower.” He watches as Stewy rustles through their clothes and finds a shirt. He puts his fingertips on Stewy’s wrist, so delicate. “But I’m gonna be late.”

Stewy looks down at Kendall’s fingers and then up into his face. “And why’s that?” he asks slowly.

Kendall licks his lips and tilts his head. “Because I want you to come with me.”

“To the press conference? But we haven’t confirmed I’m in yet.”

“No, idiot.” Kendall pulls on Stewy’s wrist so hard that Stewy loses his balance and falls next to Kendall on the bed. “Into the shower. Everyone else can wait one minute for me. But I don’t want to wait one minute for you.”

***

It’s not much of a shower as far as getting clean goes, but it’s the best shower of Stewy’s life.

Once the waters pours down on them and droplets bounce off the glass door that shuts out the glare of the bathroom lights, Kendall takes Stewy in his arms and holds him, just _holds_ him, fingers curling into Stewy’s shoulder blades and face buried in the crook of his neck. Stewy holds the back of Kendall’s head and rests his other hand in the small of his back. Even over the hiss of the ceaseless water, Stewy can hear Kendall’s breathing, which is fast for a person who’s standing still.

“You okay?” He whispers it directly in Kendall’s ear, letting the falling drops touch his lips.

Kendall nods against him, again too quickly. “Yeah. I’m just nervous and I don’t know why.”

“Well, it’s kind of a big deal, what you’re doing.”

“No. Not that.” Kendall moves his head and presses their cheeks together, digging his fingers even harder into Stewy’s back. It doesn’t even hurt, it feels so good. “When you said that thing, last night. About being with you in the moment or whatever it was you said.”

Stewy huffs a laugh and rubs his cheek against Kendall’s. “Yeah, something like that.”

“And I ragged on you, asked if you were proposing to me.”

“Yeah. I sort of remember.”

“Yeah.” Kendall sighs and his breath fogs the door. “Well, I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m a little too fucked up for something like that right now. But fuck it, let’s be together. Not just right now, in this moment. Let’s be _together-_ together. Do you want to be? Because I do. And now I’m even more nervous, now that I’ve officially asked. Fuck you for doing that to me.”

Stewy runs a hand through Kendall’s hair, the strands sticking to his fingers in their dampness. “Shit,” he whispers through the pulse in his throat, a bird of hope trapped there and fluttering in pleasure. “Ken, why would you be nervous asking that?”

Kendall pushes away from Stewy abruptly, shoves his face into his hands, water streaming down them. “Because,” he says, his voice muffled almost to the point of intelligibility. “I just staged the biggest coup in recent business history. Maybe in all business history. I basically dynamite’d my entire world and probably the fallout isn’t even finished, you know, falling. I’m in so deep, I might never get out. It’s gonna be a shitshow. It’s gonna be fucking scary. I’m gonna do it, there is not one fucking thing that can stop me. But fuck if there’s not one thing I want more than to do it all, and that’s to be with you.” He drops his hands and swallows, but holding Stewy’s eyes. “It’s asking so, _so_ much of you. There are going to be cameras following me, they’re going to track my every move. I won’t get to see you privately a lot, not easily. But I want to try. I want to grab every moment I can with you. Even if it’s just to talk with you for five minutes before a board meeting. Even if I only get to kiss you _hello_ and _goodbye_. I’d take it. In a heartbeat.” He blinks drops from his eyelids as he looks at his feet, the water rolling past them and down the drain. “I’m wasting water. Fuck. Anyway. The point is, I’m right here. I’m back. I’m back to you. Do you want me?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“ _Yes_ , you major, _major_ idiot.” Stewy grabs Kendall back into his arms and kisses his shoulder. “I want you. I’ve wanted you forever.” His tears mingle with the shower water and the taste is weird, bitter, wonderful. “I know it’s going to be hard. I know I won’t see you all the time. But who cares? Who honestly cares if it means that at the end of the day, I know you’re thinking about how you want to be with me and I’m thinking about how I want to be with you and that’s a damn solid connection, that’s unbreakable, who cares? Who _cares_?”

Kendall presses their foreheads together again, and the water drenches them both, but he doesn’t pull away. Stewy runs the pads of his thumbs over Kendall’s cheeks. Kendall threads his fingers through Stewy’s hair, choking a little. “I don’t care. Okay. Okay. And I’m sorry for everything.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I am.”

“Stop. That’s all dead. It’s just you and me now.”

Stewy thinks about all the dumb movies he’s seen where people kiss in the rain as he and Kendall kiss while the shower water pelts down. He finally understands why people think it’s romantic. Having that essential element present all around you when you’re kissing the one essential person in your life is like the earth bowing to you, telling you that not only is everything good, but everything is _right_. The bird in his chest lands on the second little heart he feels, the one that grew when he knew Kendall was the love of his life. It feels now like one heart is inside the other, or maybe they’ve melded, or maybe they’re actually the same heart after all. Any which way, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s the most beautiful he’s ever felt and the most certain he’s ever been that yes, this is _living_. This isn’t going from day to day, month to month, year after year after year alone and just coasting along, not even bothering to hope for an elevation of the best kind, the kind that means tenderness forever. This is living, and the water has been a refuge, and they are each other’s safe havens. He’s arrived. They’ve arrived. Together, like they’re supposed to be.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be late,” Kendall says between kisses.

“No,” Stewy breathes, kiss after kiss after kiss. “The _conference_ will start late. _We’re_ on time, though. We’re on time with _us._ Babe, we’re right on time.”

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHHHH this is my first Succession fic and it is very scary sending it out into the world but hopefully it was worth your time. Thank you for reading. <3


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